


petals

by viscrael



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-reunion, blood tw, book canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3860749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscrael/pseuds/viscrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don’t let it change you. He’d said that, hadn’t he? Whatever you do, stay as you are. Don’t let it change you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	petals

**Author's Note:**

> i finished the books today and my heart is in pain so ofc i had to share it
> 
> this is short and makes zero sense and goes no where
> 
> TW for blood and violence oh wow

“Nezumi—“

When the scream tore through his throat, his mouth opened up and his lips curled up, but not in a smile.

It smelled like the first time they kissed, the remnants of the soup they’d just shared sitting on a small stack of books. Shion had fussed at him a bit for using the cover as a tray, saying something about messing it up, but Nezumi hadn’t paid much attention to it. Their conversation had strayed. Cravat, Hamlet, and Tsukiyo sat watching, whiskers twitching. Shion’s breath smelled like their soup. Nezumi had tasted tears.

Red petals followed him, a trail of them.

“Nezumi—“

Except they weren’t petals.

They were blood.

And it smelled like the first time they kissed. It smelled like that good night kiss, it smelled like the first time Nezumi had shed tears in he didn’t know how long, it smelled like the dirt he’d shoved him into the morning after for lying to him.

It smelled like Shion.

There was blood. A lot. But he couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from. It was hard to distinguish between the flesh that had been clawed at and the flesh that had been shot at. Some wounds were closed up, but he couldn’t tell which was which. His throat hurt.

“Nezumi—“

It wasn’t a sound. He hadn’t been able to form the sound, the susurrus of his name; he had only mouthed the word, forming it on his lips over and over again, _Nezumi, Nezumi, Nezumi,_ and his eyes turned from violet to red, red like the petals around him, red like the blood around him.

Don’t let it change you. He’d said that, hadn’t he? Whatever you do, stay as you are. Don’t let it change you.

Nezumi’s vision shifted: Shion wasn’t in pain anymore. His throat was intact. His mouth was forming words. Forming them, quietly, his eyes vacant, his arm curiously steady for someone who’d never held a gun before.

_Save you? I heard those words just this morning. In the basement of this building._

_I couldn’t save him._

_I couldn’t save anyone._

Don’t let it change you. Whatever you do, stay as you are. Don’t let it change you. Don’t let it change you. Stay as you are.

It was his fault for doing this to him—

“ _Nezumi_ —“

He was naïve.

_—Piece of shit._

_Who? Me?_

_Yeah, you. And me too. We’re all shit._

_Don’t say that about yourself, you’re not—_

He couldn’t do anything to stop it. He had done this to him. He had brought this upon them. _Piece of shit._

 

\--

 

When Nezumi woke, it was not with a fire engraved in the back of his mind. It was the smell of tears, the smell of blood, the smell of soup. It was the kiss. It was violet eyes. It was petals.

It was Shion.

Heh, he scoffed at himself. Two years had passed and he still had nightmares. Two years had passed and he still thought about him.

Two years had passed and he still wanted to go back.

“Piece of shit, indeed.”


End file.
